


Abstract

by sixtieshairdo



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtieshairdo/pseuds/sixtieshairdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will wishes that he'd never met Sonny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abstract

 

David Levithan,  _The Lover’s Dictionary: A Love Story in 185 Definitions_

 

 

These nights, he wishes he’d never met Sonny.

 

If a child grows up in the cellar of a house, in the dark, without knowledge of the sun, he would thrive under the swallow of a constant shadow. But, cut open a window for him, so he can see the wisps of clouds, and the threads of grass, and the amber of dusk, and he will never want to return to the engulfing black.

 

Sonny was his window. 

 

That  _fucker_  showed him all the ways to love someone the right way, and then slammed the metal frame at his face, made him stand outside the dirty glass wall, and showed him how he could love someone  _else_  in a whole different way.

 

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck.  _YOU_.

 

He is frightened of the dark. He sleeps with the light on, with the iPad playing comedies, so he can drown his pathetic tears in the cheap laugh track of old movies, so he doesn’t feel so goddamned alone.

 

Oh God. Oh God.  _No_.

 

Is this really it? Did he commit the ultimate sin, the unforgivable crime, the mistake of all errors? Why won’t Sonny even  _look_  at him anymore? He has never felt this abused, and yet he knows profoundly that Sonny has all the right in the world to hate his sorry guts. But he cannot take the silence.

 

Hate me. Kick me. Do something! Don’t just turn away. Don’t avoid me, please.  _Please_.

 

Nights never used to be so blatantly horrific. He is jumpy and shaken. He feels a gaping, bleeding mouth, wide-open in his chest, begging to be filled, exposed and filthy.  _Unloved_. He cannot help but stare out his bedroom window, looking blankly into the empty horizon. This is it, then. Nothingness greets him like an old friendly monster, and all he can do is let it consume him. He closes his eyes and forces himself to not cry out like the child that he is.

 

Come back to me. I’ll do whatever you want me to. Just, come, back, to, me. Please.

 

Of course, nothing happens. Of course, the silence only stretches out like a bleak road, broken glass and rubble paving the way. He feels numbness dawning upon him. He hates feeling swollen and sterile, more than he detests the sharp incisions of heartbreak. He would rather have needles stabbing at his insides so he can remember the man who pieced him together a long time ago.

 

You are my abstraction, my love. You taught me the language of compassion. You showed me how to untie the binds around my wrists, and you untangled the stammer on my tongue. You saw right through me and didn’t run. You stayed, and ingrained yourself into my skin. You let me tattoo my name into your chest, and laced your hand through mine when I am ready to break. You know me, more than I know myself. 

 

_So, fuck you_.

 

I wish I had never met you. I wish you never called me those names that made me blush shiver laugh. I wish you never looked at me kindly. I wish you never gave me a chance. I wish you, I wish you, I wish you.

 

I.

 

I wish you only happiness. I wish you joy, and poetic moments, and  _love_.

 

Even if it means I have to suffer in this cage I built myself. Even if it means I have to see you with someone else, with…him, even. Even if it means, every night is a night of echoes of  _I wish I had never met you_.

 

And so, he does.

 

These nights, he curls into his pillow and achingly wishes – desperately, desperately – he’d never met Sonny.


End file.
